


Under the Pale Moonlight

by VenTheWriter



Series: Moonlight Series [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 19:47:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4637997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenTheWriter/pseuds/VenTheWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Furihata awakes one night to Akashi knocking on his door, asking for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Pale Moonlight

The school year was slowly coming to an end, and Furihata was one hundred percent ready for it. The ache from doing so much work for the past four months had seeped into his very soul, and he was just ready for his exams to be done so he could finally take a break for a few months. On the other hand, it did mean saying goodbye to the other guys in his dorm. He made friends with mostly everyone, and he was still finding little piles of mess left over from the farewell party they’d had on the last night of classes (not to mention scraps of balloons that were still scattered all over the place from a water balloon fight months ago). By this point most people had already moved out of the dorms, including his own roommate. In fact, doing a quick head count, there were only three or four of them left on the floor. Well, one less now.

“Is there even space for this box?” He wondered aloud. The tiny car before him was packed to the brim with boxes. How Kuroko managed to have this much stuff fit in a shared room was beyond him. Some of them had to have belonged to his scary roommate, but judging by his current predicament of trying to tetris in a box of books into a vehicle full of boxes of books that wasn’t the case. He didn’t even see a suitcase in there.

“I suppose I will put it on my lap,” came Kuroko’s voice as he appeared at his elbow, accompanied by a bark. Thankfully being friends with the guy meant that his sudden appearances weren’t as frightening, and so there wasn’t a repeat of the beginning of the year, when he’d been helping unpack said books and ended up throwing the box at his ghost-y friend when he did much the same thing as he just did. Two boxes of bloody tissues and an hour of frantic apologising later and they’d had a great chat about basketball. Turns out that they had played against each other in high school, although Furihata was embarrassed to admit that he couldn’t remember him.

Kuroko put his dog on the ground and wrestled the box out of his arms, Furihata helping adjust it so his friend didn’t fall over. Nigou yipped at his feet, demanding attention. Furihata laughed and indulged the puppy.

“Will Furihata-kun be alright?” Kuroko asked. Furihata looked up with a furrowed brow.

“What d’you mean? It’s finally gotten quiet,” he joked. “I’ll get some good studying in for my last exam.”

“Yes, I supposed Kagami-kun wasn’t the most graceful person to live with,” Kuroko added.

Furihata shrugged. “It’s not so bad. If he keeps you up late playing video games or leaves his laundry lying around he’ll make an apology breakfast. You’ll get used to it next year.”

“Noted: I can use Kagami-kun’s blunders in order to get free meals.”

A third-party foot knocked Furihata over while a hand went and crushed Kuroko’s skull.

“What’s this about using me for my cooking?”

“Heyyyy Kagami,” Furihata laughed. “You know you make the best breakfast.”

“Yeah, but I don’t need you giving this guy any ideas,” he grumbled, watching Kuroko weave precariously to try and get out from under his grip while mumbling a variety of comments along the lines of “Kagami-kun you’re hurting me” and “I will drop this on your foot.” Kagami didn’t stop his attempt to juice Kuroko’s skull until Nigou barked at him. He bared his teeth back at the pup, but retreated to the other side of the car.

“Let’s go, Kuroko. Aomine can only help carry up your library for a little while before he’s off to do God knows what and I wanna get him to take as many as we can. I still think you shoulda sold half of these.”

“I need them.” Kuroko’s response was immediate. Still he whistled Nigou into the car and adjusted the box in his arms while Furihata got up and dusted invisible dirt off of his knees.

“See you later then,” Furihata shrugged, jamming his hands into his pockets.

“It will be different without everyone around,” Kuroko replied with a wistful look to their dorm building. “It will be a dramatic change from sharing with Akashi-kun. Although I suspect it will be just as quirky.”

“Quirky?”

“Oi! Don’t go getting all sentimental, idiots,” Kagami shouted from the driver’s seat. “Furihata, you’re moving in the floor below next week.”

Kuroko, as deadpan as ever, responded, “And I was just about to profess my undying love to Furihata-kun.”

“Kagami, you’re ruining the moment,” Furihata moaned. Kagami just honked the car horn to drown out their chuckles. With a little help Kuroko managed to maneuver into the front seat with the box and his dog.

“Tell Kawahara and Fukuda not to burn the place down before I move in,” he said as he shut the door for his blue haired friend. Kuroko nodded and waved as the little car pulled out. Furihata waved back before heading back inside to study.

As they pulled off of campus, Kagami noticed the deep frown plastered on Kuroko’s face.

“What’s up?” he asked. Kuroko tapped his chin.

“Perhaps I should have warned Furihata-kun,” he mumbled. Kagami narrowed his eyes.

“About what?”

“Akashi-kun.”

“Akashi? You mean Akashi’s still--”

“Yes.”

“Oh boy. Furihata’s in for an interesting week then.”

“Indeed. Akashi-kun assured me that he would be alright on his own, but I highly doubt it. I also recall Furihata-kun not being particularly fond of Akashi-kun.”

Kagami snorted. “Yeah, that’s a way to put it. I’m not sure about how Akashi feels, but ever since he came into the kitchen that one night looking like he was gonna murder someone he’s been freaked out.”

“Akashi-kun had a bad day,” Kuroko responded, bracing as best as he could with his stomach in his throat as Kagami took a particularly sharp turn. Honestly, if he hadn’t had to balance the box on his lap he’d be clinging to the door for dear life.

“Yeah well. Akashi always had a bad day,” Kagami grumbled. “Hopefully that other guy isn’t as useless as he pretends.”

\-----------------------------------------------

Despite Kuroko’s foreboding statement, Furihata did not see Akashi when he returned to the dorm. Takao, however, was in the kitchen having a staring contest with the pot of coffee. He assured Furihata that staring at it actually made the pot brew faster, which sounded as absurd as it looked. He poked fun at Takao as he absentmindedly tidied up the few dishes that had been left on the counter, Takao snipping happily back.

“So Kuroko’s finally gone?” Takao asked as the brew finished up. “Or do I need to pay my respects to a grave because he toppled a pile of books onto himself.”

“Jury's still out,” Furihata laughed. “Haven’t heard from him or Kagami since they left. There’s still time.”

Coffee was poured into two mugs, Takao adding a heap of sugar to his. Furihata had started the year out with a heavily sweetened coffee too, but he weaned himself off of it. Black coffee kept him awake and focused better. Takao hopped up onto the island, mug cupped in his hands, and Furihata leaned on the adjacent counter.

“It’s weird when it’s this quiet,” he added. Takao nodded, gesturing with his chin to one of the now empty tables in their dining area.

“Yeah. It’s not the same without Kasamatsu’s Power Study corner. I don’t think he left that seat once, except to go to his exams.”

“Kise managed to get him out once,” Furihata corrected him. “Although I don’t know if chasing Kise around because he stole his textbook really counts.”

“Close enough,” Takao shrugged. “Bet the table feels lonely now, though.”

“Wanna study for the psych exam together then?” Furhata asked. “I’m a little shaky on the stuff from chapter five.”

They reoccupied Kasamatsu’s table for the rest of the evening, but left his Study Throne empty out of respect. Within an hour notes ended up scattered all over the kitchen and possibly even the bathroom. Sticky notes of key terms and ideas coated the cupboards (yellow for concepts, blue for theories, and pink for people). The coffee pot constantly whirred away, and eventually cups of instant-ramen were scavenged from the cupboards. It after dinner that the final resident of the floor made an appearance. They were just going over chapter five once again-- well, theoretically they were. Takao had his face smushed into the textbook in hopes of learning through osmosis (“Trust me, Furi-kun, it works. It has to work.”) and Furihata was staring into the dregs of his cup and wondering if it was worth the energy to get another one. Takao’s head shot up at the sound of footsteps.

“Yo, Akashi!”

Furihata froze, suddenly _extremely_ interested in the bottom of his cup. He could see the bright red out of the corner of his eye. _Oh boy oh boy oh boy._

“Good evening,” Akashi replied. There was some clanging in the kitchen, which Furihata assumed was him either hunting for food or a mug. Probably a mug, considering that there was no more food. “I hope you two realize that this card here is wrong.”

Takao made and incoherent whine that was equal parts irritated and hopeless, and dropped his head back onto the table with a _bang_. Furihata fumbled with his pen below the table, glancing at Takao to make sure he hadn’t properly smashed his head in. Thankfully he hadn’t.

“What did we doooo,” Takao moaned.

“Mixed up Freud and Jung.” The distinctive sound of coffee being poured into the sink. “You also let the pot get cold.”

“It’s a sign,” Takao resigned. “We’re going to fail, Furi. The God of Exams--”

“Tenjin.”

“--has abandoned us forever. We’re never gonna leave this place. We’ll be forced to live off of coffee and dust and listen to Yamanote-sensei talk about nature versus nurture until _we’re_ dust and--”

Takao continued to ramble until his words were more slurred whines than actual words. Furihata just buried his face into his hands. Excellent. Now he looked like a complete moron in front of probably the smartest guy in their year. Whelp, better add that to the list of all the other fumbles.

There was minimal noise from the kitchen. A brief glance up showed Akashi leaning back on the side of the island, an empty oversized mug cupped in his hands and an amused smile on his face as he watched Takao crumble from a blubbering mess to a completely still, oversized paper weight. His study partner remained like that for an uncomfortably long time. Furihata chewed his lip, ignoring as he accidentally stabbed his palm with his pen. He was praying for one of two things: either for Takao to start talking again or for Akashi to just leave, otherwise _he_ would have to talk to the redhead and that wasn’t something he could really do without spending ten seconds stammering on one word and probably dropping his pen _oh God please start functioning again Takao_.

Apparently the person answering prayers that evening had a shitty day and wanted to take it out on him.

Takao’s head shot up from the table and a clawed hand reached out to Akashi, as if he was a dying man in a desert who had just found an oasis.

“Akashi,” he groveled. “Please. You gotta help us. Lend us your wisdom, O Master of Academics. Teach us your ways!”

Furihata stared wide-eyed at his friend. No. Nononono. He wasn’t supposed to ask Akashi to stay. He was supposed to distract him until he got bored and _left_. Akashi staying was not part of the plan. _Whatever_ , he assured himself. Akashi probably had better things to do then try and--

“I had a feeling you were going to ask.”

Akashi gathered their empty mugs as the coffee machine beeped, filling the three cups and joining them across the round table. Furihata immediately stiffened, silently cursing Takao’s betrayal as his friend happily perked up and jostled around his notes. Akashi gave him a sidelong glance, which Furihata did his best to ignore in favour of hiding behind his textbook.

For some reason, Furihata was surprised that he was surprised that the perfect Akashi was a good teacher. He knew how to get Takao to pay attention, often by having him get up to do small things every twenty minutes or so, be it to refill the mugs or put up a new sticky note. He also either didn’t notice or completely ignored Furihata’s obvious discomfort by shuffling a little closer during these times to point to specific passages from the texts. He circled the important phrases, which Furihata highlighted behind him, and just talked about the material. He didn’t expect any responses other than stiff nods and the occasional affirmative sound. In turn he tried to ignore his desire to shuffle away whenever a lightly calloused hand gestured to paragraph sections and attempted eye contact more than a few times. They all ended in him cowing under the way all of Akashi’s attention was focused solely on him

They studied like this until near midnight, when Akashi declared that they had done enough studying and needed some sleep. They were in full agreeance. Anything to stop studying by that point. They’d made more progress in the few hours Akashi had worked with them then they had all afternoon. Takao was much more confident about it now as well. Thankfully he could talk enough for six people, to the point where neither Akashi nor Furihata could have gotten a word in edgewise if they had tried. He bounced his way back to his room, chattering on and on about how they were going to ace the exam now and then he could finally relax and get ready to move.

He said goodnight to Takao and gave a very stuttered apology to Akashi accompanied with a jerky bow before fleeing to his room. He was smart enough to get ready for bed before collapsing onto it, but the moment he laid down he realized that he was still pretty wired. Probably from all the coffee. He tried for a solid hour to just ignore it and sleep anyway, but his mind was just not shutting down. Perhaps it was from spending an extended period of time with Akashi, he mused.

Alright, his relationship with the guy couldn’t be that bad. It was just… not as good as it could have been. He actually hadn’t seen Akashi all that much throughout the year. It’s just, whenever they did meet, it wasn’t under stellar conditions. The first time was after a night out on the town during the first week. Kagami had forgotten his key in his room and Furihata managed to lose his. Fortunately it was only in the kitchen. Unfortunately they didn’t learn it until the next morning. It didn’t matter much at the time because Kuroko’s roommate had yet to show up, so the three of them had two beds that they could cram into. Well, Kagami took one to himself because he was essentially a building with feet, leaving Kuroko and Furihata to sidle around until they found the perfect equilibrium to fit two people on a single. Naturally, Akashi came into his room the next morning, luggage in hand. He was kind enough to not wake them up. But coming to, bleary eyed and slightly nauseous, and having a stranger sitting in a chair with a book on their lap and a steely glare made Furihata start and accidentally kick Kuroko onto the floor as he scrambled out of bed. Akashi continued to glare until he managed to stammer a completely incoherent sentence and get Kagami up and out of the room.

The second, and probably most frightening time, he encountered Akashi was a weeks later in the kitchen. He was fiddling with his phone at one of the tables, waiting for his friends to finish their evening lecture so that they could go to the movies. Kagami was sitting across from him, arguing with Aomine about minute NBA trivia. His back was to the kitchen area itself, but he didn’t need to see Akashi enter to know that he had. The tension in the room ramped up the moment he crossed the threshold, enough so that Kagami and Aomine’s argument faltered and even the humming of the appliances seemed to hush. The coffee maker whined as if it was assaulted and heated up quicker than it normally did. Instead of risking the wrath of Akashi by turning around to look, Furihata got a good idea of the situation by watching the two across from him. Both Kagami and Aomine were on edge, their eyes following Akashi’s every move and fingers gripping the edge of the table.

“What?” Akashi hissed, making Kagami and Furihata jump and look off in opposite directions. Aomine, however, was one of those idiots who had zero sense of self-preservation. Sense for danger yes, but his response was always fight and never flight. Whatever warning signals that normal people picked up went completely over his head.

Aomine huffed and, to Furihata’s horror, asked, “What’s you’re problem?”

He had no idea what Akashi did, but even Aomine is in infinite hard headedness froze on the spot, unblinking and mouth slightly agape. The pressure in the room increased tenfold, the hairs on the back of Furihata’s arms raising as he sunk as low as he possibly could in his chair without sitting on the floor. Kagami was just keeping a wary eye on the scene, looking poised to do… something if the situation called for it.

No one at their table even breathed until the pressure in the room dissipated, leaving only goosebumps in its wake. Kagami relaxed slightly and Furihata inched back upright. Aomine still looked haunted though.

“What happened?” Furihata whispered to Kagami while looking at Aomine. Kagami shook his head.

‘You don’t wanna know, man.”

Kagami spent the rest of their waiting time seeing how many utensils he could balance on Aomine, who was still frozen and staring warily at the door.

Every other time Furihata came into contact with Akashi, which he admitted were few and far between, was much the same experience. The first few times they had a semblance of a conversation Furihata had been too terrified of incurring his wrath to get out more than a few squeaks before excusing himself (and occasionally tripping over whatever got in his path). During their finals party was the last time he’d seen Akashi before that study thing. He was just minding his own business when Akashi sidled up to him, leaning back against the wall along side him, and tried to make small talk. Not, like, to a group of people that he happened to be a part of. Literally just him. He did his best to respond, but it was mostly stammers and stutters and his face turning fire engine red and under his eyes getting hot and could he be any more of a loser? He tried to keep eye contact, but something about those brilliant red eyes had his gaze constantly veering off in any other direction, whether it was across the room for someone to save him or at  Akashi’s perfectly fitted shirt or the way the redhead's fingers were clasped tightly in his other hand. His hair had been done especially perfect that night, probably to make a final good impression before everyone sunk into finals mode. Everyone else was looking to get pretty smashed that night, Furihata included, but Akashi had only had a drink or two the entire night. Probably because he had a tight study schedule starting the next day, Furihata mused. Only natural for He Of Perfect Academics.

Honestly, how in the world could he be so damn perfect? His grades were good, he was attractive, he was an excellent teacher, he had a million hobbies and was some kind of leading role in a million clubs, he was intimidating as hell, and according to Kagami he could charm a turtle into giving him it’s shell. Having all of that crammed into a living thing simply wasn’t human. It was completely impossible. And yet Akashi Seijuro was something nature allowed to function.

As he allowed his mind to wander into more grumbling scenarios, Furihata slowly began to drift off. The last thought he could remember before submitting himself to the American Interdimensional Space Program like his mom always wanted him to was ‘Wait, did I just call him attractive?’

\----

Just as he was about to pick the strawberries from the solar garden a firm series of knocks dragged him awake. Well, half awake. He was no longer on the space station, that’s for sure, but the image remained fresh in his mind as he heard another round of knocks. He mumbled and cracked an eye open to glance at his clock. 3:17. He mumbled again and rolled over, hoping that whatever it was could wait until morning. A third round of knocking, this time a little firmer and a little quicker made him groan louder, but he rolled out of bed none-the-less. He didn’t even care that he was about to answer the door in nothing but boxers. They were lucky that he was getting up at all. Still, he had the decency to only open the door enough so that he could half sidle out of it and lean heavily on it’s edge. It took him a moment to register that it was Akashi standing out there, the fingers of one hand clutched tightly in the other.

“Good evening, Furihata-kun.”

“Akashi-kun why are you knocking on my door at 3 am?” Furihata yawned, clutching onto the door and doing his best to remain half asleep. If he woke himself up too much then he’d just be up all night, especially considering how much coffee he and Takao consumed.

“My room is haunted.”

Furihata blinked. 

“I’m sorry what?”

“There is a ghost in my room.”

He froze, giving the redhead a blank stare. The tone was just as matter-of-fact as Akashi always was, but the words didn’t match. At all. What in the world gave Akashi the idea that--

Oh.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Furihata said, “but you actually had a roommate this year.”

Akashi made an impatient noise. “I am aware that I had a roommate, despite Tetsuya’s best attempts to make me think otherwise.”

“Oh. Did he not like you, or-”

“No, he’s just a terrible human being. I had to adapt quickly to his presence before I dropped another glass of water on the floor. He was compliant, because next time he knew it was going to be a bucket of water on his books.”

“Right.” Furihata scrubbed a hand over his face There was some part of him that felt like he should have been more surprised, but Kuroko did have a strange sense of humour.  There was that one time that he’d been coerced into help playing a prank on Kagami, involving two dozen singing birthday cards, a minor floor conspiracy, and a grueling allnighter that nearly drove the both of them insane. Not as insane as when Murasakibara decided to hide his snacks all around the floor for convenience’s sake, though. Himuro was the one who had to calm down Miyaji after he went and bought out the supermarket of all of its fruit and started to threaten anyone that came within ten feet of him. Furihata had made that mistake and smelled like strawberries for days afterwards. He should probably try strawberries again before his mom found out and made him replant the bushes in the space ship...

“Furihata-kun, are you sleeping?”

Furihata snuffed and jolted up, jerking to door in his hands and slamming it into the side of his face. Pain erupted from about his temple to his jaw and, wow, it hurt a lot more when he was half asleep and was a total surprise. But now his ears were ringing and his heart was pounding a million beats per second and maybe he was breathing too loud because he didn’t hear Akashi trying to hold back his laughter by just snickering instead. He also didn’t quite register anything for another solid twenty seconds, wherein he was lead to sit on his bed while Akashi was much too close to examine his head.

“I think I’m awake now.”

“I would think so, Furihata-kun.”

Fingers pressed into his temple and he recoiled at the touch. Partially because _ow fresh wound_ but also because he just fully realized who it was sitting next to him and acting like this was a totally normal occurrence and _oh my God Furi you’re practically naked code red call emergency services_. He jumped up from the bed, ignoring how the room seemed to be tilted a little too far to the left, and rummaged around on the floor until he found the jeans that he’d shucked off before falling into bed, stammering incoherent sounds as he did.

“You might want to slow down,” Akashi advised, watching as he struggled to get a leg in. “You did hit your head pretty hard.”

“Apparently I did,” he mumbled as he made in into his pants with only minor difficulties. “I thought you said something about a ghost.”

“I did.”

Ah, right.

“And it appears that you think that I am crazy,” Akashi added with a small sigh. “I apologise. I can leave if you wish.”

Despite his offer, Akashi did not look very inclined to get up. Furihata paused, looking up at him from where he’d dropped to the floor to finally get those damned pants on. It was dark in his room, but Akashi was illuminated by pale cuts of moonlight that peeked around the edges of the curtains.

When Furihata was young he spent many holidays visiting his grandmother.  She was the only one that he would ever describe as wise, if not a bit superstitious. She would make him charms, including a phone charm to bring good luck and a quilt that she designed good-omen symbols into when he was a baby, and would tell him stories of the two frogs and the little peachling and the tongue-cut sparrow, each with their own morals and things to learn that went beyond simple instruction. She was also the one who told him about the moonlight.

“The daylight is a farce, Kouki,” she told him. “Only in the night, with only the moons and the stars as their witness, do you really see a person. There’s no use in wearing a mask in the dark, when it can’t be seen. The moonlight reveals what the sun blinds.”

He never understood what she meant. But seeing Akashi at that moment gave him an idea. Rumpled was the best way to describe him, which was a word he never would have ever thought to use to describe Akashi. Instead of his usually perfectly fitting work-like attire, he wore a  t-shirt was slightly too big, and the sweatpants he had on were also rolled up as if they were slightly too long. Hair that was usually nonchalantly styled was now nonchalantly unstyled, to the point of bed head he would even say. His eyes were bloodshot too, and his bottom lip looked raw, as if it had been worried almost to it’s limit. He was also surprised to see Akashi fidget under his gaze, toying with his fingers and tapping his foot. Furihata wasn’t sure about the whole ghost situation, but he knew that he couldn’t say no.

“N-no, it’s fine,” he told him. “You can hang out for a bit.”

“Thank you.”

They both stayed where they were, silence falling. There were a million questions on the tip of Furihata’s tongue, but they didn’t get farther than that. Would it be rude to ask about it? He did come in here just to hang out after all. But what was he supposed to really say? “So you think ghosts are real?” or “Hey! I think you might be a little bit crazy because ghosts? Totally not a thing.”

“You know, I can see that you still think I’m crazy,” Akashi said, making Furihata shrink and look away. “I’m aware that it’s a little… unorthodox. And normally when someone else is around it isn’t an issue. But…”

“Yeah, Kuroko went home,” Furihata supplied. “It’s not a big deal, really.”

A slight lie. He was actually extremely curious about it. Also it was three o’clock in the morning. But he didn’t want to make Akashi uncomfortable.

“I also know you’re not satisfied with that explanation.”

Furihata blanched. Okay, Akashi was definitely a mind reader. _Apples_ , he thought. _You look adorable in those clothes. I dreamed I was on a spaceship. Freudian slip_. Akashi scooted back on the bed, drawing his legs up to sit cross-legged.

“It’s been like this since I was young,” he said. “It’s completely irrational, I’m aware. During the day it’s not a problem. But at night I feel as if I’m being watched, and I sound like something’s in the room with me. Sometimes when I wake up in the morning some things are not in the places I remember putting them. Now, I know that there’s nothing there and any sounds are just the building, and that I probably did leave everything where I find it, but it’s the same as those people who are illogically frightened of spiders or needles. There’s nothing to be afraid of, but nothing makes it better.”

As he spoke, Akashi had drawn his knees up to his chin and was speaking more into them than he was to Furihata, who pursed his lips and clenched his fists. For some reason, he thought that he’d be satisfied that Akashi wasn’t as perfect as he’d thought. But there was something extremely _wrong_ seeing him curled up like that. Furihata scrambled up from the ground and held a hand out to him.

“C’mon,” he said. “You can spend the night here in Kagami’s old bed, but you can’t just sleep on a bare mattress. Let’s go get your bedding and bring it in here.”

Akashi smiled at him, a tentative smile that seemed ready to melt into a scowl at the wrong word, and took the offered hand. Their hands remained clasped for a little bit too long before Furihata realized what exactly they were doing and jumped away, face much too warm to be normal. Akashi hesitated, and Furihata could feel those ruby eyes zeroing in on him. He became extremely interested in really any direction that wasn’t Akashi, who examined him for a few more moments before heading out the door and reminding Furihata to grab his key. While on their way Furihata asked about how he used to handle this… predicament as a child.

“I had a safety blanket, like most children,” he responded as he opened the door to his room. It was immaculately tidy, for once. Furihata assumed most of the mess before had been from Kuroko’s piles of books scatter all over the place, but now he realized it made the room look lively. Without them it was almost sterile. Akashi started to remove the sheets from his bed. “A stuffed horse. Naturally as I got older I... no longer needed him.”

“You do know there’s nothing wrong with having a safety blanket, right?” Furihata jumped in. “When I have a bad night, where I’m stressed or something, I pull out this quilt my grandma made for me and sleep with it. It’s comforting and helps me fall asleep. I’ve got it folded up under my bed.”

Akashi slowed in his work, toying with the corners of his pillow. He didn’t respond. He just picked up his pile of sheets and tossed Furihata the pillow. They walked back to the room in silence, and Furihata wasn’t sure what to make of it. Did he say something wrong? Oh jeez, hopefully he didn’t just offend him. The last thing he needed was to make the guy he just offered to spend the night uncomfortable. Way to go Furihata, you idiot. You probably embarrassed him, or made him think you were making things up to make him feel less bad but actually made him feel worse because it’s like you’re making fun of him. Next time don’t open your big stupid mouth.

“Can I see it?” Akashi asked as they arrived at the door. “The quilt, I mean.”

Furihata paused, glancing over his shoulder. He tried to get a read on Akashi, but his face was impassive, mouth set into a line and forehead uncreased. “S-Sure, I guess.”

As Akashi set up his bed, Furihata dug around for the box under his bed, wasting his time until Akashi had finished so he could sit next to him on his old roommate’s bed. It was in what once was a box for kitchen bowls. The quilt itself was no longer than his arm in either direction, since it was meant for him as a baby. But the patches were embroidered with the phases of the moon, littered with stars and kanji and characters from the fairytales he grew up hearing in colours that had faded from their original vibrant glory. Akashi’s fingers traced the figures, a small smile on his face that made Furihata’s stomach feel all floaty.

“It’s beautiful,” Akashi said, pressing a loose thread into the quilt.

“It’s old,” Furihata agreed. “But my grandma’s really good at that kind of stuff. This thing’ll probably last until my great-grand kids or something.”

Akashi hummed a laugh, looking… wistful? Furihata thought that that was the word: a slight far away glaze over his eyes, small smile, and his fingers repetitively tracing the fat edge of the full moon.

“Y-You know,” Furihata mumbled, suddenly finding the hem of his shirt extremely fascinating. _Please oh please don’t sound too weird_.“Y-You can borrow it tonight. It might help with the, um, ghost thing.”

He was too busy counting the stitches on his shirt to notice Akashi’s face go bright red. “If… you’re sure it’s alright. Thank you, Furihata.”

Furihata felt his own face ramp up another million degrees. He jumped up off the bed, stammering about how it was no big deal and that they should probably get to sleep. Akashi agreed and soon both of them were lying in their separate singles. Furihata faced the wall, still feeling the heat on his cheeks. Even though Akashi probably couldn’t see his face across the darkened room, he didn’t want to risk it. Especially after that near-mind-reading scare. A sudden thought popped into his head, though.

“Hey, Akashi?”

He heard sheets shuffling from across the room. “Yes Furihata?”

“Did you go to Takao?”

A pause. “You mean, tonight? About… all of this?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah, yes. I did, after you didn’t answer at first. However he did not respond either, nor did he pick up his phone. So I came back and hoped you would answer this time.”

“Oh.”

There was silence. Then Akashi asked him a question, this one about his grandmother. Furihata responded and soon enough they were bouncing questions and stories back and forth. Furihata mentioned about that one time Akashi has stormed into the kitchen and nearly petrified Aomine. He could hear the hesitation and sheepish tone when Akashi explained that he’d accidentally gotten a red tie mixed up in a load of dress shirts laundry. This had Furihata in stitches, with Akashi joining in before long and wow, Akashi was much more human at night. He was fidgeting and shuffling in his bed and making movements that weren’t precise or with purpose and showing emotions beyond the regal sympathy that he usually had when interacting with people. It was different than how he was during the day, but Furihata certainly liked it. It made the poster child for perfection into a young adult who was making everything up as he went along. Not that Perfect Akashi was terrible or anything. But this one had Furihata easily _wanting_ to talk and joke with him instead of find the furthest point away he could be without being rude.

In the end it was Furihata that had to shush them both to get them to sleep before they stayed up all night.

“Takao will drive us insane,” he added, making Akashi laugh in agreement. They both rolled over to sleep, but Furihata made sure to stay awake until he heard Akashi’s breathing even out.

\----

In the morning, Akashi was back to his perfect self. He was already dressed in a pair of slacks and a white button up when Furihata stumbled into the kitchen, feeling much too tired for it to be noon. He stood in the doorway, eyes heavily lidded from exhaustion examining the red head, wondering if the whole bonding-over-ghosts thing last night was all a dream. It could have been. All of the holes in Akashi’s armour that had oozed nervousness had been patched up with some sleep. Maybe he’d dreamed the whole thing up in order to overcome his fears after Akashi had been so helpful yesterday.

“Good morning, Furihata,” Akashi greeted, skating a fresh mug of coffee across the counter closer to him. Furihata’s response was swallowed by a yawn and a thump of him dropping onto one of the stools at the island. Akashi laughed, swinging around to sit next to him. Furihata ignored how their elbows were brushing.

“I apologise for keeping you up most of the night,” he added, letting his nails rhythmically clink against his mug. “But I’m incredibly grateful that you helped.”

Furihata felt his neck heat up and it wasn’t from the scalding sip of coffee. O-oh. Last night wasn’t a dream. Suddenly the pressure of Akashi’s arm against his felt much heavier and much more _there_.

“D-don’t worry about it,” Furihata told him, toying with the handle of the mug and hunching in his shoulders. “A-and if you need company again, just knock. Kagami isn’t coming back any time soon so there’s always somewhere for you to sleep.”

Akashi’s face went red as he smiled. “Thank you, Furihata. I will most likely take you up on that offer.”

“R-right. Just don’t make it three in the morning again, okay? I can’t be sleeping in like this if I’m going to pass this exam.”

“Of course. I suppose I’ll just… stay... in Kagami’s bed until the end of the exam period then.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Furihata couldn’t tell if the silence that followed was awkward or comfortable. Akashi seemed relaxed and he himself didn’t feel freaked out at all. But there was what felt like a starburst in his chest pushing forward against his ribs and his palms felt tingly around the mug and maybe he was nervous in a way that wasn’t quite horror movie frightened but like I-see-the-treasure-chest-at-the-end-of-the-hall kind of way.

They both turned to each other and started to say something, but immediately cut themselves off and occupied their attention elsewhere, Akashi to the window and Furihata to his mug. It was then that Takao came bursting in with an obnoxiously vocal yawn, arms stretched high over his head.

“Good morning!” He sang, traipsing over and slinging his arms over their shoulders. “Sleep well?”

Takao felt both of their shoulders stiffen and he held back a snicker. _These poor little nerds_ , he crooned to himself.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he answered for them. “Now who’s ready for round two of ‘Don’t Let Takao Fail First Year Psych’?”

They immediately took the opening to jump up and flee the room to get their books. Takao laughed openly then, pulling his phone from his pocket to text poor worried Shin-chan. Thank God he’d gotten rid of the million little notification bubbles from when Akashi had called him last night. The text sounds had driven him insane as it was. Waking up with the notification bubbles would have been too much. He’d also gotten texts all night from Shin-chan telling him to watch out for Akashi because he didn’t want him to go and scare Furihata (Which was Midorima-speak for: “I’m concerned about Akashi because of his ghost thing so please help him”).

He sent his totally, one-hundred-percent-not-worried friend a text.

_Relax, Shin-chan. I’m a better wingman than you ever were._

 

[Bonus:

While Akashi didn’t buy their apartment building and move in like Kuroko suggested he might, Furihata did receive many 3am calls from Akashi. At first he thought that Akashi was just being a bit of an ass, but after the fifth night Furihata began to pick up on the way his voice was all scratchy and how he would clear his throat after every word and realized oh, he’s actually freaking out. So they’d chat until one of them fell asleep (usually it was Akashi, because Furihata always wanted to make sure that he was at least going to get a few hours in, but on the occasion that Furihata was the first Akashi always assured him that he was fine for the rest of the night).

[[[And then they hang out more and Akashi’s at the apartment more and sleeps on a futon on Furi’s floor more and then he just wheedles his way into paying part of the rent and unceremoniously moves in which is totally cool with the guys since he practically lives there anyway and then Fukuda and Kawahara notice that the futon is gone from Furi’s floor and they’re totally not surprised when they come in and see Akashi cooking dinner one night and Furi’s got his arms wrapped around his waist and his chin on his shoulder they coo about what a good waifu Akashi is and then flee while cackling when he turns to glare at them while holding the largest knife in the kitchen. (“I don’t know what they’re talking about,” Akashi grumbles. “I’m not a good waifu, I’m the best waifu.”) But, well, you know.]]]

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “its spring break and my roommate is out of town but im pretty sure my dorm room is haunted and ur the only one i know who’s staying on campus so will you please stay with me oh god i will pay u” 
> 
> [http://genderqueerfuri.tumblr.com/post/115003775622/more-akafuri-college-au-ideas]
> 
> Tweaked the original prompt a bit, but the general concept is still there? Also, I am unfamiliar with how the Japanese university system works, so I’m basing it off of the more familiar (to me) North American one. I could have done the research but, honestly, I’m just going to shrug and call poor authorship because this thing turned into a monster and I’m lazy orz


End file.
